


this is my heart stumbling

by cxyst



Series: shyness or shame or desire [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, That is all, Underage Sex, um so louis is a twink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxyst/pseuds/cxyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis is in love with a construction worker five years his senior and it’s all childish dreams until suddenly it isn’t</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is my heart stumbling

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY here is the deal, i have been pitching this to everyone as a ‘19yo louis with 19yo harry’ thing, but really louis is fifteen!!! i basically just did it so i could write harry growling ‘you’re not even legal, oh fuck’, so, sorry!! but like i just pictured 15yo louis as 19yo louis, so go along with it and enjoy the fringey twinky cuteness :)) this could be awful, i really dont know
> 
> ♡title from a poem by the lovely dom (starseas)♡

‘zayn.’ his fingers are tight on the windowsill and it aches but he can’t let go. it’s a pale morning; the sky feels close. ‘zayn,’ he says, ‘i’m going to die.’

‘what’re’ye on about, lou?’ his accent is thicker when he’s grumpy. louis sighs.

‘don’t get shitty, it’s a good kind of dying.’

‘well excuse me for getting shitty that you’ve called me up at cock o’clock in the morning on a fucking sunday-’

‘shhhhhh,’ louis peeks around his curtains again. ‘he’s so fucking hot, zayn. he’s got tattoos and curls and a tan and his fucking arms, christ. he’s in a fluro vest, zayn, and little else. i’m going to die.’  
there is a long sigh on the other end of the line. ‘are you watching porn?’

louis snorts, almost inhaling the edge of his curtain. he searches the front garden and finds the guy again. the soft morning light is hitting him just right as he leans over his workbench; he has legs for miles in those dark skinny jeans and his skin is the nicest even brown. he runs a hand through his curls, pushing them up into a messy quiff. it is all very painful to look at.

‘i’m in fucking love.’

‘yeah, alright,’ zayn says exasperatedly. he sounds more awake now, at least. ‘who is he, then?’

louis’ heart is beating strangely fast. he doesn’t take his eyes off the guy’s bare shoulders as he speaks. ‘you know how my mum’s been talking about getting renovations?’ he waits for zayn’s grunt of assent. ‘he’s like one of the builders or something.’

‘and you’re in love with him?’

‘shut up okay, you’d be in love too if you could fucking see him.’ 

zayn sighs again by way of answering. 

‘i want to suck his cock so badly, zayn.’

there is a choking noise on the other end of the line. ‘have you forgotten that you’re fifteen? you’re technically still a child, i doubt-’

‘excuse you, i’m like fifteen and three quarters.’ the guy in the garden turns around suddenly, and louis jumps out of view, backing up against the wall beside his window and breathing hard. he shakes his head at himself. ‘shit, i am a child, aren’t i?’

‘can i go back to sleep now?’ zayn says.

‘you’re a crap friend.’

‘bye, louis.’

the line goes dead, and louis lets his arm drop back to his side. he doesn’t know why he called zayn; zayn is quite obviously shit. it would have been nice to get a little encouragement, a little sympathy, a little idea as to what he could possibly do to get this guy to notice him. zayn’s the one that pulls older guys. well one, and he was only a year older, but whatever. he’s still more experienced in this field than louis is.

louis looks around his room at his dumb band posters and superman duvet and thinks that he should probably start trying to act a little bit more mature. then he turns his head to peek around the curtain again.

♡ ♡ ♡

when he gets home from school the next day, louis has to pass the guy in the yard on his way to the front door. he feels like a child all over again, having to see him, all his muscles and tattoos and syrupy smile, while he’s still in his white school uniform shirt, buttoned to the top, with his fringe hanging soft and his backpack over one shoulder.

the guy gives him a nod as he passes, a crooked grin, and so what if louis plays the moment over and over again in his mind in bed later that night. so what if he lays there for a bit under his superman duvet, imagining what it would feel like to have that soft mouth on his, those muscled arms pinning him down, those huge workman’s hands tugging on his hair. so what if he slips a hand into his old, worn pyjama bottoms, mind filled with strength and sweat and man. nobody has to know.

♡ ♡ ♡

on friday, the guy is in the kitchen.

‘ah, and here’s my eldest,’ louis’ mum smiles at him where he’s stopped dead in the doorway. ‘louis, this is harry, the head carpenter. we’re just having a spot of tea before he heads home.’

louis nods, smiles like he should, but his mind is speeding away from him, be cool be fucking cool.  
harry’s long fingers are wrapped around one the family mugs, the same one phoebe drank her hot chocolate out of the previous morning, and it feels filthy for louis to be thinking about them the way he is. he busies himself with dropping his school bag in the corner of the kitchen, wrenching open the fridge and peering inside.

harry’s voice, deeper and rougher than louis’ will probably ever be, comes from behind him. ‘how was your day at school, louis?’

louis flushes despite the cool air fanning over his face. no matter how nicely harry means the question, it’s condescending. louis feels so young, like he’s being asked what he finger-painted today, who he played tag with at lunchtime. louis’ hand fumbles, and he grabs the cheese without thinking, because he’s been leant over staring blankly at the food for far too long now.

‘good thanks,’ he answers harry as he straightens up. he makes himself smile as he rounds the bench, and promptly forgets any animosity he has when he’s met with that gorgeous, crooked smirk again.

his mum starts on talking about the renovations after that. louis grabs a random book from his bag and jumps up on the kitchen stool beside harry, under the pretence of starting on his homework. he is immediately distracted looking at their height difference. harry has to bend his knees a little to keep his feet flat on the floor; louis’ dorky leather school shoes dangle a few inches above the tiles.

suddenly he doesn’t mind feeling young at all. there is a rush down his spine, a hot yearning for harry to cage him in against a wall, to hunch down and press him there, kiss him breathless.

he steals a jam knife from across the bench and starts shakily cutting cubes of cheese off the block to nibble on. he tries not to be too obvious about the way he’s shifting in his chair.

‘what do you think of that, lou?’ his mum’s voice brings him back to the cluttered kitchen. he almost slices his finger as it slips on the cheese.

‘what?’ his mum gives him a look, and he flushes, feeling harry’s eyes on him. ‘sorry. i beg your pardon, mum?’

she smiles. ‘what do you think of the plans for the renovations? you’d have to bunk with lottie for a little while, but you don’t mind that, do you?’

‘with lottie?’ louis groans. ‘no way!’

harry nods like he knows. ‘i’d have to stick with louis on that one. a teenage lad needs his own space.’ he meets louis’ eye and the side of his mouth quirks up. ‘i’ll see if i can work out a way for him to keep his room while we work on the front of the house.’

‘oh, fabulous! that’s about a thousand less fights i would have to deal with,’ jay laughs.

‘might have to deal with a few workers in and out,’ harry continues, still looking at louis. ‘but it’s better than sharing with your sister, right?’

louis’ stomach is clenched up tight, his hands are fumbly. he tries to think of something cute or flirty to say, but it’s harder with harry right there. he just smiles like an idiot instead.

‘yeah, uh, a lot better, thanks.’

the warmth in harry’s answering grin makes louis’ blood fizz well into that night.

♡ ♡ ♡

the weekend is awful, in a lovely perfect way.

louis wakes up on saturday to machinery noise that feels like it’s right next to his head. it’s outside his window, he discovers as he rolls over and squints one eye open, but it may as well be in his bed with him. everything is blurred around the edges. it’s taking him a long time to register anything other than the ache of his morning hard-on and that terrible, ear-splitting noise. as he kicks off his duvet and sits up, running a hand through his hair and looking around blearily, the noise stops.

it’s then that louis finally registers that there is a man standing on scaffolding outside his window, holding a drill and smiling like a sex god.

‘morning,’ harry grins, waving the hand that isn’t holding a probably extremely dangerous power tool. his voice is muffled by the closed window. ‘sorry about the noise!’

louis is suddenly much more awake than he was three seconds ago. he waves back and tries to look sexy, like he’s not sitting in a tangle of superhero-themed bedding with dorky fluffy sleep hair and no shirt to cover his not-yet-muscled-but-getting-there tummy. it’s hard to tell through his sleep-hazy eyes, but louis thinks harry just looks endeared, which was definitely not the reaction he was going for.

‘that’s fine,’ louis says, coughing to hide the teenager break in his voice that is always worse in the mornings. ‘should probably get up anyway.’

there is literally no reason why louis should get up, but he can’t very well relieve his morning wood right in front of harry (now there’s a seduction technique), so he clambers self-consciously out of bed and heads off to ‘have a shower’. and all he can say is thank god his mum got a lock installed on the bathroom door, because as soon as he gets a soapy hand around himself, one of his sisters is twisting the handle trying to get in to find her new nail varnish.

when he gets out, a little lightheaded from the heat and steam and the visions of harry fucking him up against the wall of the shower, he can’t see any other way of going about getting dressed other than to go back into his room with only a towel on. it isn’t even flirting, really, it’s just logic.

and if he works up enough courage to give harry a little smile as he heads to his wardrobe, that isn’t really flirting either. just. being nice.

 

and because apparently he has charmed louis entire family just as much as he’s charmed louis, harry and the rest of his workers have lunch with them that day. they all sit around the actual table like an actual normal family, plus four burly tradesmen and a male model (probably). louis doesn’t even bother pissing his sisters off or throwing sandwich condiments around, because harry is sitting right across from him and looking at his face is much more important than being a brat. the irish carpenter is loud and funny and has the little girls in stitches with his impressions, and louis mum is in deep conversation with the probably-also-a-sexy-fireman builder next to her (louis doesn’t even want to think about the way she’s touching his bicep), so it’s easy to slip under the radar.

i.e. stare at harry and think filthy thoughts.

harry’s is having a conversation with the builder beside him about some measurements and wood type stuff that louis doesn’t understand, but listens avidly to anyway, and he’s just decided that harry’s low, rough voice can make absolutely anything sound sexy when he feels something nudge his toe. he jerks it back instinctively, before looking up and seeing harry smirking at him. his mind is muddled with ‘um????’ for a few seconds before he lets himself smile a little back.

harry shifts in his seat, and louis feels something pressing into his foot again. harry is staring straight at him, lips still quirked up at the edges. louis’ heart is pounding stupidly in his chest. he wishes it would calm down. it’s just a foot. you’re just touching feet. chill out, louis, chill out.

he wiggles his foot out from under harry’s and puts it on top, trying and failing to squash harry’s toes through his huge, leather workman’s boots. harry grins at him like louis playing along is the best thing that’s ever happened to him and reaches his other foot out to step on louis’ again, trapping it between his.

louis thinks, as they continue playing what can only be described as footsie under the table, is that at his school this would definitely be considered flirting. but he doesn’t know how things work with adults. is  
he meant to see this as a lead on to Something, or just a bit of teasing?

it’s hard to know if he’s imagining it, but the contented, fond way that harry is smiling at him seems a little over the top for just teasing.

♡ ♡ ♡

and it’s a thing, after that. it doesn’t stop louis wanting harry’s cock, because fuck, but he starts to want that smile.

(maybe a little bit more than sex).

(maybe about the same amount as sex).

it’s nice to have somebody looking out for him, even if it’s just to make sure he doesn’t have to room with his sister. does he have to be nice as well as a sex god? couldn’t he make this a little easier on louis by not being completely, all around perfect?

louis can’t stop thinking about it. he daydreams through the next morning’s classes, not even bothering to act up or annoy the teachers. sure, having his classmate’s attention is fun, exhilarating even. but what gives him real giddy butterflies is thinking what if harry and i cuddled on the sofa and watched movies together and he had his arm around me and i could snuggle into his chest, or what if he took me out for coffee and held my little hand in his huge one and kissed me on the cheek.

 

at lunch, zayn presses a hand to louis’ forehead and pretends to look concerned.

‘are you okay, mate? do you need to see the nurse?’

louis forces his eyes to focus on zayn’s face. it’s more difficult than he will ever admit.

‘what?’

‘you haven’t been a dick to me all day! you didn’t even mess with mr. musgrave the way you always do.’ zayn’s lips are pressed together in that way they always are when he knows he’s winding louis up. ‘are you feeling alright?’

‘shut the fuck up,’ louis groans. he rolls his eyes, but can feel his lips quirking up.

zayn raises his eyebrows in that frustrating ‘i know you better than you know yourself’ way, and takes a bite of his sandwich. louis leans forward and takes his own bite. zayn punches him half-heartedly.

‘so, this guy you’re all hung up on,’ zayn says through a mouthful (because he really does know everything about louis). ‘he is, how old?’

louis groans again. ‘can we please get past the age thing?’

zayn gives him another look.

‘it’s irrelevant!’ louis insists, to himself as well as to zayn.

it doesn’t really mean anything. age is just a number, and all that.

(except it kind of does and it kind of isn’t.)

‘anyway. it’s not like anything would actually happen, like.’ louis shrugs, lets out a long breath. ‘i’m just a horny teenager who’s getting bored of his own hand, zayn, don’t worry about me.’

but it makes louis think, during his next class. he thinks yeah, he can dream as much as he likes and that’s okay. (it should be okay. but it’s getting a little hard to breathe.) the thing is that it’s not going to happen, not really, not ever. and louis knows that, but at the same time it’s starting to feel like he can’t laugh at himself anymore. he thinks the realisation, the hard cold fact that it’s impossible, is something painful, now.

he thinks he is in far too deep.

♡ ♡ ♡

the next afternoon is heavy with heat, and harry is in his room.

‘hey, louis!’ he says easily, looking up from where he’s measuring some part of the window, and he looks so ridiculously attractive that it takes a couple of blinks for louis to deduce that he isn’t a mirage.

after a too-long pause, louis says, ‘hi.’ and of course, his voice cracks.

harry just smiles, and his lip is fucking bitten red from concentrating on the window and louis is going to die. ‘i’m just finishing up some stuff in here; i’ll be out of your hair pretty soon.’

louis manages a choked, ‘mmhm,’ before harry turns back to his work and he can finally let out the breath he’s been holding.

it’s that thick, shimmering kind of hot in the room. louis would probably be on the verge of collapsing anyway, and now whichever god is out to ruin his life has chucked in the most gorgeous person in the world as well. and just to make everything more fun, he’s wearing shorts. louis flops down on his bed.

‘you okay?’ harry asks, after a beat of silence.

his voice sounds so soft and kind that it makes louis’ chest ache. he opens his eyes and looks at the roof instead of looking at harry. that would probably just make him hurt more. 

‘i’m fine,’ he says, but he knows he doesn’t sound convincing. he might have been able to pretend he wasn’t upset if he was talking to his mum, or zayn, but saying it to harry feels different. it’s like his body won’t let him lie. he closes his eyes again and wants. he wants to hold harry’s hand. he wants to roll over and see harry next to him in the morning. he wants to be grown up enough for harry to take him seriously. he wants harry to take care of him. 

‘are you sure?’ harry’s voice sounds closer now. ‘do you want to talk about it?’

louis lets out his breath in a long sigh. his throat feels tight, but he won’t fucking cry. not over something so stupid, so fucking out of reach. 

‘listen, i know it must be hard living here with all these girls,’ harry says, sounding hesitant. louis feels the bed dip, fingertips on his arm. ‘it might be good to talk to another guy about stuff?’ 

louis groans a little, rolls over to smush his face in the pillow. harry’s hand fits into the little dip between his shoulderblades almost immediately, and he almost wants to push it away.

‘i can’t talk to you about it,’ he mumbles forlornly. but there’s this pressure building under his skin, spreading out from where harry is touching him, and a little voice in his head saying tell him tell him tell him.

louis can almost hear harry’s concerned expression. ‘why not? is it something at school? are people giving you shit? i can sort them out, louis, just tell me.’

the little voice in louis’ head is getting louder and louder and his skin feels electric. he smears his words into the pillow like he wants the cotton to eat the noise before it reaches harry’s ears. 

‘i kind of have a big huge crush on you.’

there is a long silence. harry’s thumb stops stroking the edge of louis’ shoulder blade and he worries that harry’s quiet because he’s silently laughing, or angry, or disgusted. he wonders if harry can feel his racing heartbeat through the back of his shirt. 

finally he can’t take it anymore, and peeks one eye open to check.

harry’s face is slack but for the little crease between his eyebrows. he opens his mouth a little, then closes it again. then the corners of his lips pull up in a tiny, tiny smile.

‘you look like a confused frog,’ louis says, giggling a little. the knot in his stomach loosens as harry’s smile widens in response.

‘heyyyyyy,’ he whines. his palm flexes against louis’ back and louis arches into the touch without thinking. ‘what does a confused frog look like then?’

louis sits up, folding a leg under himself, and makes a face, furrowing his eyebrows until he can barely see and stretching his mouth out with his fingers. he’s exaggerating, and he probably looks about six years old, but it makes harry let out a loud bark of laughter, so it doesn’t matter. 

‘i hope i don’t actually look like that,’ harry says, still smiling.

louis rolls his eyes and holds on to his own ankle tight, trying to bring himself down from the high he’s feeling from looking at harry so close, so he can think of something else to say. he likes that harry seemed to forget about his confession as soon as he made a joke, and he wants to try and make that happen again and again so he never has to face up to it. but now they’re face to face, and harry’s hand is on his leg, just resting there, like it’s something that isn’t meant to make louis’ heart skip the way it does; his mind is just blank. he watches harry’s eyes flick down, linger on his lips for a moment, then meet his gaze again. 

‘a big huge crush, huh?’ he murmurs, sounding amused. louis flushes immediately. 

‘don’t make fun,’ he says softly. ‘it just happened.’ 

harry laughs again. ‘you’re so cute.’

and it all feels so patronising and embarrassing and like he’s being let down easy and it’s awful. louis shrugs harry’s hand off his leg and stands up, not-quite-stomping over to the window.

‘can you go now?’

harry makes a sad little noise. ‘lou, c’mon. i’m only kidding.’

‘i know!’ louis sniffs, crossing his arms. ‘that’s the point, frog face.’

he stares determinedly at one of his david beckham posters, watching it blur over as he listens to harry getting up and walking over to him. the old floorboards creak under his heavy work boots. he puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, and louis fights the urge to shrug it off.

‘it’s okay, i-’ he sniffs again, blinking hard. ‘i wasn’t expecting anything different. you don’t have to-’

‘louis,’ harry cuts him off, turning louis so they’re facing each other, pressing him into the wall a little, ‘just be quiet for one second while i get my thoughts together.’

louis licks his lips, throat still tight; harry’s eyes follow the movement. 

‘fuck, you’re pretty. i can’t fucking think.’ his hand comes up to stroke along louis’ cheekbone, just for a second, before he drops it again. ‘it’s just like-’ he sighs. ‘i mean, i thought about it but i never really considered it a possibility, ‘i- you’re so-’

harry cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s given up, and just leans closer, his breath fanning across louis’ mouth. it really shouldn’t be enough to make a shiver run down his spine, but it is. there’s a second of silence where harry bites his pink, plush lip and louis stays frozen, terrified that if he so much as breathes too loudly harry will move away. 

then, finally, harry leans down to fit their lips together.

it’s louis’ third ever kiss, and the others were just random girls at parties; it wouldn’t be fair for harry to blame him for how he reacts. because louis full-body shudders and lets out a soft whimper. arching closer, he opens his mouth a little, wanting to feel harry’s tongue against his. harry is so gentle with him, huge hands resting, careful, on his waist and neck. his lips work softly on louis’, sucking on his bottom lip, teeth scraping. louis feels like a china doll under his hands. it’s lovely to feel pretty, to feel delicate. it gives him butterflies, a squishy feeling under his ribs. 

harry’s hand slides up louis neck and into his hair, tugging lightly on the soft strands so he can move his head where he wants it, fit his tongue deeper. it makes heat shoot to louis’ lower stomach, coiling tight. the idea that harry is doing this, that harry wants him, it’s. fuck. louis fists his hands in harry’s dark t-shirt, holding as tight as he can and letting himself be shoved back against the wall.

it’s harry who pulls away, after a minute. louis stands on his tiptoes to chase his lips as he moves back, but he’s too small. that’s hotter to him that he ever thought it could be.

louis is sure he looks ridiculous. his face is burning and his hair is sticking up where harry’s fingers were twisted and he’s half-hard in his grey school trousers. he feels ravaged, around his mouth rubbed red from harry’s slight stubble. harry’s pupils are huge, blown out inside a ring of light green, and his cheeks are tinged pink, but otherwise he looks normal, like he could walk back out into the kitchen and pretend this had never happened. louis holds onto his t-shirt tighter.

‘how old are you?’ harry murmurs into the breath between them.

it’s the last question louis expected to hear, but harry looks so impossibly gorgeous, and it feels so good to finally have what he’s been thinking about for weeks now, that louis can’t bring himself to lie.

‘fifteen,’ he breathes. he feels tiny with harry’s hand spanning across his ribs.

harry hunches to kiss him again. it’s sudden, but louis’ head is still so hazy that his mouth is still soft and half-open, ready for harry to suck on his lower lip.

‘fifteen, shit,’ harry mumbles against louis’ lips. ‘you’re fifteen.’

louis rises up on his toes again, lets harry suck kisses down his jaw, arching into the strong thigh harry presses between his legs. ‘it’s-’ his voice is embarrassingly high and breathy. ‘don’t worry about it.’ goose bumps rise on his arms when he feels harry’s teeth, the heat of his tongue, latching onto his pulse point.

‘fifteen,’ harry says again. his voice is low and rough, but there’s almost laughter in it. his lips drag on louis’ skin. ‘you’re not even legal, oh fuck.’

louis’ head is a mess of want want want, no room for logic or consequences. ‘i won’t- i mean. nobody has to know, it’s-’ he lets out a long breath as harry lifts his head again.

his eyes are very green, and one half of his mouth is curled up in a smile that could probably save the world from every comic book villain ever. or something. louis tries to think more like an adult.

‘i won’t, you know. i won’t tell.’

harry smiles wider, then rolls his thigh up so louis’ mouth falls open and his head knocks back against the wall. ‘shit,’ harry sighs out. ‘you’re so pretty.’

louis breath is coming faster now. ‘you don’t have to do anything, i. like only if you want, but,’ he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. harry’s lips are distracting him. ‘d’you think I could suck you off?’

harry’s eyes widen, hand tightening on the back of louis’ neck. ‘have you, uh, done that before?’

louis shakes his head, ‘but i’ve watched porn and stuff, i know how to-’ his cheeks are flaming. he feels like he’s seven years old, fondly being told that he can’t try the big boy monkey bars just yet. his voice comes out higher than before, stuttery. ‘it’ll be really good, honest! you can, i’ll let you do whatever you want, you can make me, like, choke on it, i don’t care-’

harry leans closer, the hand at the small of louis’ back pressing him up onto his toes. ‘god, yeah,’ he murmurs, so close to louis that their lips drag together. ‘yeah, yeah, okay.’

it takes louis a second to register, what with harry sucking on his bottom lip again. when he does realise that he’s been given permission, he pushes at harry’s broad chest, trying to do that sexy-wall-flip-maneouver that he’s seen in so many pornos, but he isn’t strong enough to push harry away. he almost feels ashamed for the way that makes his breath catch.

when harry pulls back, he’s smiling again. ‘y’alright there, lou?’

‘wanna-’ louis slides his hand down harry’s stomach, over his waistband. so close to where his cock is straining against his zipper, but not quite sure if he should touch yet. ‘i want to, now.’

harry’s nodding already, keeping louis close to him as he flips them around, pressing his own back to the wall. ‘get at it then, tiger,’ he says, smiling with one side of his mouth.

louis feels gangly and uncoordinated dropping to his knees, but he wants this so so much that he can’t be bothered with embarrassment. he keeps a tight grip on harry’s solid thighs, feeling them twitch through his jeans when he digs his fingers in. and, god, it’s just like every single one of his stupid, childish fantasies, but everything is madly intensified, and louis can smell the sweat and man on harry and he can look up at the huge broadness of his chest and shoulders and if he wanted he could lean in and nuzzle the thick, hard line of his cock through his trousers.

but harry’s legs are so long that he has to sit up all the way, thighs straining, to even get close, and after he’s hesitated for so long, harry’s already pulled his cock out.

louis’ heart is pounding and his stomach is twisted up, and everything is hitting him suddenly. who the fuck is he kidding; he doesn’t know what to do with a big real life cock. but harry is smiling down at him so gently, stroking at the soft place behind his ear like he’s never going to stop, and it makes all this warmth and comfort surge up inside him, drowning out the anxious buzz.

so louis reaches up, curling his fingers around harry’s cock. he tries to seem confident, like he’s done this all before, touching someone else, but gets caught up in how tiny his hand looks around the pink girth of it. he rubs his thumb up in a little circle just under the head, and the rest of his hand doesn’t even reach half-way.

‘it’s so big,’ he breathes without thinking. then he glances up quickly, praying that harry wasn’t listening.

he obviously was, but it doesn’t seem to be an issue. louis watches his mouth drop open, his pupils blow out even blacker than they were before. 

‘oh fuck, louis,’ he says through a breathy little half-laugh. ‘you’re going to kill me.’

‘sorry, sorry,’ louis says, eyes wide. ‘i’ll-’

‘no,’ harry’s properly laughing now. ‘god, you’re so cute. it’s okay baby, take your time.’

louis scowls a little, but he’s playing it up. harry’s smile is too pretty to be mad at. he gets him back, instead, by stretching up and sucking on the head of his cock.

he is shocked for a second by the weight of it on his tongue, the heady taste of precome. it’s not like anything he’s ever tasted before, he’s sure. it isn’t exactly nice, but he kind of likes the bitterness. he licks into the slit, curious, and harry groans deeply, long fingers tangling in louis’ hair. louis looks up through his eyelashes, checking that it was a pleased groan, and when he sees the rush of colour in harry’s cheeks and the way his chest is rising and falling fast, he knows it was. he pulls his lips back and just swirls his tongue around the head, getting another choked off sound in return.

it’s strange and nice to have this much control. for once he doesn’t feel so young. and he’s just thinking that this is kind of fun, wrapping his lips just under the head and sucking, working his hand over the rest, when harry’s hips buck up suddenly. his cock slides over louis’ tongue and hits the back of his throat. he manages to keep his teeth out of the way, but it all happens so fast that he gags, splutters and coughs a little as he pulls off.

‘sorry, fuck, sorry,’ harry pants, thumbing under louis’ eyes gently to smear away the tears he’d forced out. ‘i’m so sorry, babe, are you okay?’

and louis feels. well, his throat hurts a little, from rejecting something so suddenly, and his lips feel swollen and his eyes are stinging but he feels. there’s something floaty going on in his head, making words difficult. it’s like the way he feels when he thinks about harry holding him down.

he looks up at harry’s concerned face with his mouth wet and open. ‘please, can you- again?’

harry looks shocked for a moment, biting his lip. ‘you’re sure? i don’t want to hurt you or anything…’

he trails off as louis tightens his fingers around his cock again, stroking him a couple of times, slick with the spit he’s already smeared there. ‘please,’ he says again, brain fuzzy. ‘i want you to choke me with it, or- just anything, please.’

harry mutters a curse under his breath before he brings his hand back into louis’ hair, shifting his hips so his cock slides through louis’ grip a little. louis leans in and opens his mouth around the head again before looking up, blinking through his wet eyelashes and watching harry’s face.

he tries to go down further, keeping his lips tight, before they drag harshly under his teeth, stinging. he pulls off, huffing, and tries again, opening his mouth wider to slide harry over his tongue.

harry groans low, pushing his hips up slowly, making sure louis is okay before going deeper. 

it’s hard, when his throat is clenching and trying to gag, but louis forces himself to relax. it’s quite nice, actually, to feel harry’s fingers tightening in his hair and see his stomach muscles clench up. 

harry groans again, says, ‘so good, such a good boy,’ and he thinks he might die.

he wants, more than anything, to make harry happy, and to prove that he can be grown up enough for him, and it makes him feel floaty and lovely to know that he’s succeeding. he lets out a little moan around harry’s cock, feeling the vibrations in his lips, which just makes harry fuck in harder. louis works his hand over the rest of his cock, determined to make him come after he’s let him do this.

he pulls back, still jerking harry off, struck with a sudden thought that he’s not sure he should voice but wants to anyway. 

‘come on my face,’ he croaks, throat grating around his wrecked voice. ‘please, harry, can you do that?’

he doesn’t even get a warning before harry’s thighs are tensing and he’s groaning loud and long and his cock is spurting onto louis’ cheek, his bottom lip, up under his eye. it’s warm and he wants to taste it so he does, smears a thumb through the mess on his cheek and sucks it into his mouth, working his tongue over it.

harry chokes out another, ‘fuck,’ before he’s dropping to his knees next to louis, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. 

‘you’re so gorgeous,’ he says when he pulls back. 

a happy little shiver runs down louis’ spine, and he nuzzles into harry’s hand without thinking. ‘thank you,’ he whispers. he thinks his throat would hurt too much to say anything more.

louis feels so soft, like he might float away if harry doesn’t keep a hold of him. he clings to harry’s free wrist, and accepts his fingers when harry slips them into his mouth, sucks the come off them like he’s hungry for it.

‘oh god,’ harry breathes, swallowing hard so his adams apple bobs. louis leans in to suck at the soft spot of skin next to it, gets a soft little moan in return.

‘louis, babe,’ harry coaxes after a second, ‘can i suck you off now? would that be okay?’

louis is brought back to earth a little by that. he breathes out in a little hot huff on the mark he’s started on harry’s neck and holds tighter to his wrist.

‘i-’ he coughs. harry really has fucked his voice right out of him, and that thought makes his brain work even slower. ‘you don’t have to, i mean. i’m fine if you don’t want to. i just like, i don’t know, making you happy. that’s all i need, i guess.’

‘i want to, lou,’ harry assures him, leaning in to press their lips together quickly. ‘look how hard you are.’

and, oh yeah. louis really hadn’t paid any attention to that. but when he looks down, feels harry’s hand tracing along the bulge in his grey school trousers, it’s like he can’t pay attention to anything else. harry presses his palm down at the base and drags the head of louis’ pants over the head, and louis’ head falls forward onto harry’s shoulder with a breathy little shudder.

harry takes his hand away. ‘c’mon, love,’ he urges, holding out a hand to help louis up. ‘up on the bed so i can see you proper.’

louis still feels shaky and hazy but he lets himself be led over to his bed and collapses down onto it. his heart rate has slowed now, and he just feels warm and squishy inside, and even the tiniest touch from harry makes him glow. harry crawls over him with that painfully gorgeous smirk on his face and louis thinks fleetingly that now is probably not the time to worry about his superman sheets.

harry reaches down to undo the button on louis’ trousers smoothly. then he gets him in his hand and louis barely has a second to appreciate how small and thick and pink his cock looks in harry’s monster palm and how that makes his chest flutter before harry is leaning down and sucking it deep to the back of his throat.

his tongue is soft around the head and it only takes him bobbing his head twice for louis to come apart, vision blurring around the edges and thighs shaking under harry’s hands.

when he comes back to himself, harry has pulled him into his chest and is looking down at him fondly, fingers carding through his soft fringe. 

‘pretty, that was,’ he smiles, pressing a light kiss to louis’ temple.

louis’ chest feels like it might explode into rainbows, or flowers, or something equally sweet. 

‘not so bad for a frog face,’ he says, giggling. his voice is so rough that it almost sounds deep. harry smooths a thumb over his pulse point and rolls his eyes, but otherwise doesn’t react. 

they sit in silence for a moment. louis cheeks are still burning a little, chest rising and falling against harry’s.

‘i’d like to take you out sometime,’ harry says, blinking slowly.

‘yes,’ louis nods immediately, then flushes darker. ‘i mean, i guess, if you want.’

harry laughs and kisses him again, soft and light and sweet. louis thinks he might be dreaming.

‘oh, and by the way,’ harry says, voice rough and low in louis’ ear, like he’s about to say something really dirty. ‘i like your sheets.’


End file.
